


The Shallow End of the Pool

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Implied Sexual Content, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will you stop laughing?" Jemma screeched exasperatedly as she twisted her hair repeatedly. Water kept pouring from her clothes and her makeup had to be streaming down her cheeks by now. She'd never been so humiliated in her life. <em>Or</em> her undercover alter ego's life.</p>
<p>"I'm trying, I swear," Skye squealed, doubling over. "But– you walked <em>right</em> into the pool. Try to visualize it!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shallow End of the Pool

**Author's Note:**

> An homage to the infinitely classy Elizabeth Henstridge and her SDCC pool mishap in the form of a vaguely smutty Fitzsimmons ficlet.  
> Much thanks to Grapehyasynth for beta-reading and egging me on.

"Will you stop laughing?" Jemma screeched exasperatedly as she twisted her hair repeatedly. Water kept pouring from her clothes and her makeup had to be streaming down her cheeks by now. She'd never been so humiliated in her life. _Or_ her undercover alter ego's life.

"I'm trying, I swear," Skye squealed, doubling over. "But– you walked _right_ into the pool. Try to visualize it!"

"You said there were snacks," Jemma snapped unhappily. She opened her dripping purse to extract her phone and sure enough, the screen would not light up no matter how insistently she pressed the 'On' button. Not to mention her shoes– the only designer pair she owned, _ruined_.

It was a disaster.

"Huh, Simmons?"

She looked up, surprised by Fitz's stricken tone.

"Your, uh, I mean… I– I can see–"  Red faced and stuttering, Fitz gestured in front of his own chest as if he was weighing a pair of averaged-sized grapefruits.

Jemma looked down and sure enough, her linen ensemble _and_ the white cotton bra underneath were now entirely see-through. The fabric was like mesh, and she could practically count her damn freckles through both useless layers.

"Good job staying inconspicuous, Simmons," Skye snorted. "Now every man in the resort is gonna remember your face. Or, you know, your other attributes."

"Thanks for your support, Skye," Jemma declared haughtily as she turned to walk back to the lobby.

"WOAH," Skye hooted, before she covered her mouth with both hand for a few moments.  "I guess you're not one for underwear lines, huh?"

Jemma's eyes widened and she let out a muffled groan. Of course, she was wearing a thong.

Next to Skye, Fitz was staring at her helplessly, his eyes jumping all over her body, searching for a safe spot. Judging by the way they were bugging out of his head, there were none.

Well, there was no salvaging her dignity now.

"Let's go back to the room," she said, tapping her foot on the floor expectantly.

"What do you– Me? And you?"

"Yes, Fitz. _Our room_ ," she enunciated, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure my bloody keycard won't work anymore."

"Oh. Right." He scampered behind her, and promptly tripped up on one of the beach chairs lined around the pool.

"Sorry," he muttered in the general direction of the empty chair.

"Oh for God's sake, Fitz!" Jemma puffed while Skye's hilarity started anew. "Will you open your eyes? You're gonna hurt yourself."

***

"Ok so I'll... wait outside so you can–" Fitz stopped by their door and handed her his keycard.

"Why would you do that?" Jemma asked, scrunching up her face with annoyance.

"So you can, you know, have some privacy."

Why was she being so difficult? Did she not understand he was trying to protect her from his own perverted thoughts?

From the moment he'd noticed that her clothes were defective when wet, he'd been fighting an uphill battle with himself to preserve the honor of his very best friend. No matter how hard he tried to direct his gaze away from her body, his eyes would snap right back to her bits. She was practically prancing naked in front of him and he was, after all, only a man.

"Ugh, Fitz," Jemma huffed an impatient sigh. "We're supposed to be a couple. Which will be a hard sell if you need to put two doors between us while I change! Besides, we used to share an apartment."

"Yes, but–" he paused, combing through his hair with his finger in frustration. "Things were different then."

He didn't think about her _that way_ then. Not really. Not during the day anyway. Sometimes at night. Mostly when he dreamt, but sometimes when he was awake, as well.

"Different _how_?"

He opened his mouth and kept it that way for a few beats, before he ultimately opted not to reply, fixing his attention to a random spot on the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the shape of her breasts –among other shapes, she had many lovely shapes, Jemma– had imprinted his retina so efficiently he could still see them, as if they were projected on the white wall like a slide.

Suddenly, something wet and cold hit him right in the head, before falling at his feet in a sad fabric puddle.

"What the hell?!" he shrieked, and turned on his feet, only to find himself face to face with a shirtless Jemma.

"You're being an idiot," she said crossing her arms under her breasts, which made matters infinitely worse.

He gestured wildly between them, his fingers flying back and forth, following the rhythm of his stuttering heart. "And you're being… improper!"

"Improper!?" she gaped with disbelief. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Please put on a shirt," he said pleadingly, begging her with his eyes.

But Jemma looked unmoved. "Not until you tell me what's the matter with you."

"Nothing's the matter, just put on a damn shirt!"

"You tell me right now, or I swear to God…" She pointed a menacing finger in his direction, her jaw set and defiant.

"There's nothing to tell!" he cried in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice.

"Oh, really?" Jemma reached behind her and suddenly, the poor excuse for coverage offered by her bra disappeared, and an instant later it flew right through the room, hitting him square in the chest.

He tried not to gawk. He tried not to _look_. He failed on both counts for a solid minute, before he grabbed a hold on himself and pivoted again until he had his back to her.

"Fitz," she said quietly, her anger forgotten but her voice still shaky. "Look at me."

"I _can't_."

"Why?"

"Because–"

He rubbed his face in both hands, unable to give her a truthful answer. Silently, he begged her to drop to topic, knowing there was no way in hell Jemma Simmons would drop _anything_ once her curiosity had been piqued.

"I'm waiting," she said, her voice still soft.

"Because I–"

It was reckless and hazardous, and yet couldn't stop himself from turning to her, not any more than he could stop his restless eyes from trailing up and down her body, taking in the deep flush that started in the middle of her chest and rose high up her cheeks, or the mesmerizing assortment of freckles of all shapes and sizes that seemed to adorn her entire body.

"Yes?" she pressed, taking a step closer.

"Yes." He could feel his own pulse beating frantically against his throat. His body seemed a mile ahead from his brain, ready and eager to comply with whatever she had in mind. "Yes," he repeated, and took a step forward as well.

It was impossible to know which one reached for the other first. The first press of their lips was soft and timid, full of questions neither dared to answer, but within a few moments, their kisses took a more playful turn, teasing and taunting. He could feel her smile against his lips, challenging him for more.

But when he wrapped his arms around her, the chill of her skin stopped him cold.

"You're freezing," he said, frowning, and instinctively rubbed her back and arms with his warm palms, making her shiver.

"Well, I _just_ took an impromptu dive in the pool with my clothes on," she shrugged, chasing after his mouth.

"I'm serious, Jemma, take these off," he said, tugging on her soaked pants. "We need to warm you up."

Jemma raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"I mean– that's not what I mean," Fitz huffed, feeling his face heat up.

Jemma smirked. "You're sure about that?"

"Let's focus on your impending hypothermia for now, alright?" Fitz replied grumpily, giving her a small push. "I'll get a towel. You just– hold that thought. For later. When you are not–"

"Wet?" she asked, and only barely managed to refrain from snorting.

"Damnit Jemma," he grouched, "I'm trying to be a gentleman here and–"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Go ahead, save me from a certain death, then."

" _Thank you._ " Fitz heaved a vindicated sigh as he made his way to the bathroom to hunt for towels.

"Don't mention it," Jemma piped cheerfully, and proceeded to remove the rest of her clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr > chinese-bakery


End file.
